


Request and Require

by devovere



Series: Intimacies [11]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst and Feels, Episode: s02e25 Resolutions, F/M, Friendship, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Medical, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 10:05:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15839028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devovere/pseuds/devovere
Summary: Kathryn and Chakotay are back on board, but re-entry is rough and breaking up is hard to do. The crew notice that they’ve changed. Can they do what the situation requires and move on?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackVelvet42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVelvet42/gifts).



> Sincere thanks to beta-readers BlackVelvet42 and TheShorty, who each read this story in at least two different drafts and provided badly-needed constructive criticism at all levels. I would not have felt able to publish this high-stakes installment in the series without their frank appraisal and consistent encouragement.

Sickbay materialized around us. As the tingle of transport faded, I heard the EMH’s voice in my right ear. “Welcome home, Captain Janeway.”

Before I could respond, a hypospray hissed cold against my neck. My knees wobbled, and I shot a glare at the Doctor.

“What did you do to me?” I asked sharply, but the words came out slurred and remote.

The last thing I felt was his holographic arms lifting me onto a biobed.

The last thing I heard was Kes’s voice. “Doctor, over here!”

The last thing I thought, with fuzzy anxiety, darkness descending, was ...

_Chakotay_.

~~~

Pain blazed through me, deep and carving.

I opened my eyes, squinting blearily into bright lights. I was flat on my back.

_Sickbay._

_Chakotay?_

I turned my head towards a muffled grunt. He was on the biobed to my left, sitting up and swinging his legs to the side to face me. His voice was rough as if from disuse. “Captain? How do you feel?”

Every joint in my body was on fire. A muted beeping in the biobed’s console rose in pitch and volume. The Doctor said, “Computer, disable vital signs alarm.”

_Why are my vital signs setting off an alarm?_

Kes appeared at my right. I tried to smile at her. The concern in her large eyes suggested that I’d only managed a grimace.

Tuvok’s steady voice came through the comm. “Doctor, we are at the thirty-minute mark. Please report.”

_I’ve been out for half an hour?_

I realized with sudden dread that I couldn’t move. I could turn my head and breathe but my limbs were rigid, my lower torso held fast by its own muscles.

I looked with urgency in Chakotay’s direction again but the EMH had moved closer to my head, blocking my view. He replied to Tuvok, “Commander Chakotay’s viral load is decreasing as predicted. The captain’s is not responding as well as I would like. We can’t leave orbit yet.”

Chakotay asked intently, “What’s happening, Doctor? Why isn’t the medication working for her?”

_Good question_.

I wanted answers. I wanted to stop hurting. I wanted to go back to the planet --

_No you don’t, don’t be ridiculous, Kathryn. You have a ship to command, a crew to get home._  

“It’s too soon to say it isn’t working, Commander. She was actively ill longer than you were before stasis, so that may explain her slower response to the treatment.”

I couldn’t move. I was burning up and I couldn’t move and my breath was short and --

_They can’t help me, the cure isn’t working._

Chakotay reappeared at the foot of my bed, and I felt him grip my ankle through my boot.

“Captain,” he said, but I heard him say _Kathryn_ , and more, layers of care and connection embedded in the two syllables of my title. I made myself -- let myself -- meet his eyes and felt them anchor me, beating back the waves of what I could call panic only now that he was there to shelter me from it.

I breathed, in and out, willing calm into my agonized, paralyzed musculature. Chakotay held my ankle and my attention, until another hypospray hissed under my left ear and everything receded into black.

~~~

I woke again to throbbing pain and muted, intent voices.

_Tuvok_. “Forty-eight minute mark, Doctor. Is there any change in the captain’s condition?”

“I administered a second dose twelve minutes ago, Captain.” The EMH was addressing Tuvok, not me. _So strange_. “We are beginning to see some improvement.”

“Can you predict what course her condition will take in the next … eleven minutes thirty-nine seconds?”

_What deadline are we under? Is the ship in danger?_

Listening and keeping the pain at bay precluded speaking. I had questions but couldn’t form them into words.

The Doctor was speaking again. “... a clearer idea within the next five minutes. However, the commander’s recovery is progressing well. At the very least, we can keep him aboard.”

Chakotay was recovering. He would be okay.

_They’ll take him. I’ll be alone._

His voice erupted like thunder, very near to me. “Like hell you will!”

In the silence that followed, I heard a new voice. “Got the shuttle docked.” No, an old familiar one. “Need any help?”

_Tom Paris_.

The Doctor said in a clipped tone, “Lieutenant, I'm sure you can do more on the bridge just now than here on the other side of that force field.”

_Force field. Quarantine? Oh god, am I going to infect the crew? I have to stop this._

“Wait,” I croaked, and discovered I could raise myself on my elbows.

Tom said, “Captain Janeway -- welcome back. You too, Commander.”

The EMH tapped his comm badge. “EMH to bridge. Captain Janeway has regained consciousness again, and her viral load has finally stopped rising. It needs to decrease by at least half before we can safely take her beyond transporter range of the planet.”

Tuvok’s reply was unflappable. “Will that occur within the next ten minutes, Doctor?”

“I sincerely hope so.” The Doctor sounded more irritable than worried. I found that reassuring. “I have one remaining dose of the Vidiian medication to administer. I would prefer not to give her a third dose until we are certain the commander will not require a second.”

“Give it to her,” Chakotay growled. I shook my head sharply at him.

“Why ten minutes, Tuvok?” I asked forcefully through a tight, painful throat.

“Vidiians may be in pursuit,” Tuvok replied, Vulcan calm at full strength.

I rose fully to a sitting position, wincing. “Return me to the surface and go,” I ordered.

“Belay that!” Chakotay roared, as Tuvok said, “That is not yet a necessary step,” and Tom added, “Hey, a lot can happen in ten minutes, right?”

“ _Quiet_!” bellowed the EMH over all of us. His voice had the benefit of computer-assisted amplification, which I had to admit was a useful design feature in emergencies. “Captain, with respect, that is not your decision to make.”

I bristled, but he didn’t let me get a word in edgewise. “Lieutenant Paris is correct. We have ten minutes to see if your condition improves, and we have another dose if warranted. Kes, check the commander’s vitals again. Lieutenant Paris, please return to the bridge. Captain Tuvok, I will update you at the fifty-five minute mark.”

Kes appeared at Chakotay’s side with a tricorder.

“Why is Kes inside the force-field?” I asked the EMH.

“I needed her help,” he answered simply.

“What if I infect her? Save the medicine.” The Doctor seemed not to have heard me.

“Vital signs normal and viral load approaching zero,” Kes said, smiling. She too was ignoring me.

Glowering, Chakotay put both hands on the biobed and leaned past me towards the Doctor’s face. “I’m fine. Give her the medicine.”

The EMH cast a glance at the wall display and frowned. “I’m afraid you may be right. Captain, please lie down.”

I glared at all of them, still fighting down fear. “Why is nobody listening to me?”

“Dammit, Kathryn, there’s no time for this!” Chakotay gave a sharp nod to the EMH and put his hands on my shoulders. Again the cold hiss sounded, and my last thought before fainting in my first officer’s arms was that I should have lain down instead of arguing.

* * *

The third dose did the trick. Kathryn’s viral levels began to drop almost immediately.

Tom stayed another minute. I looked up to find him giving me a studied, concerned glance -- like he was seeing more than anyone was saying -- and then a reassuring smile.

“She’ll be fine, Commander.”

I couldn’t find a smile in reply, just a nod of acknowledgment, and then I saw how his eyes lingered on her right shoulder, where my hand still gripped her. I released it as he left for the bridge.

Kathryn awoke in time to hear the EMH notify Tuvok that we could safely leave orbit. I felt the engines go to warp and sagged with relief. The next thing I knew, Kes was at my elbow guiding me back to the other biobed, and I was suddenly too drained of energy to resist her.

Watching them struggle to subdue the virus in Kathryn after I’d regained consciousness myself had been perhaps the longest thirty minutes of my life. When the Doctor had casually suggested leaving her behind and keeping me aboard, I’d almost lost my mind. _Not without you_ , I thought, my gaze returning to Kathryn like a homing beacon. _Never again without you_.

I ached to hold her in my arms -- to feel her pulse, her breathing, her hair against my face. _Never again_ , my mind echoed, and a spasm of a different sort of pain gripped me.

“What’s wrong with the commander, Doctor?” Kathryn spoke in a low, hoarse voice, watching me from her biobed.

“Too much excitement,” he remarked drily. Then, noting her glare, he added, “His viral count remains at zero. Don’t worry. But we could only make an educated guess as to the medication’s side effects in humans. It appears that fatigue is one of them.” He studied our faces, one after the other. “And pallor.”

Kathryn did look pale, and she wasn’t yet trying to rise even though no one had told her to remain on the bed. Our eyes met, and the worry in hers, for me, made me smile.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“Rest,” Kes said to us both. “The Doctor will keep you here for observation for at least a few hours.”

“I need to see Tuvok,” Kathryn protested half-heartedly. She was clearly exhausted, struggling to keep her eyes open and focused on Kes.

“I’m sure he’ll come by when he can,” Kes replied, soothingly. “In the meantime … rest.” She placed a hand lightly on Kathryn’s. I watched Kathryn’s eyes close, her chalky features relaxing into slumber.

Kes turned to me. I felt as transparent as glass, no defenses left untapped by the terrors of the past hour, unable to mask my fear and longing before the Ocampan’s gentle, relentless scrutiny.

The words hissed from me in a harsh, helpless whisper. “I can’t lose her.”

“You won’t,” Kes assured me, her voice soft and lyrical as a distant forest stream. Still touching Kathryn’s hand where she slept, Kes reached across and grasped my own hand. Her grip was warm and steady. Calm and peace seemed to flow from it throughout my body, and sleep soon followed in its wake.


	2. Chapter 2

I curled onto my side and slowly opened my eyes. Beyond the forcefield, Tuvok sat on the floor, fingers peaked under his chin in a pose I recognized as a light restorative meditation. My heart warmed to see him here, well and whole and wearing the burdens of command with apparent equanimity. Seeking ease for sore muscles, I sat up as quietly as I could, but of course he was alerted by my motion. 

Lowering his hands, he rose to his feet and looked at me, as unsmiling as ever. Then, with studied deliberation, he raised his right hand in the two-fingered “V” of the Vulcan salute, and said, “Captain Janeway. It is … gratifying to see you well.” 

My intended words of recrimination --  _ I ordered you to stay away from the Vidiians; what possessed you to take my ship and crew into danger and delay  _ \-- died in my throat, and instead a helplessly warm smile slid slowly from one corner of my mouth to the other. I stood, approached the force field, and returned his salute with a whispered, “Thank you, old friend.” 

After a moment of silent regard, Tuvok’s gaze moved above and behind me. Lowering his hand, he nodded a greeting. “Welcome back, Commander Chakotay.” 

I turned, the remnants of my smile still on my face, to find Chakotay sitting up, watching us with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Tuvok,” he acknowledged. “What's our status? The Vidiians?” 

I blinked. That felt like my question to ask, not his. 

Tuvok, unoffended, answered him. “We left the system three point two hours ago and have maintained warp eight. No sign of Vidiian pursuit behind nor presence ahead. I conclude, with due caution, that we are safely away.” 

“Good,” I said. “I look forward to reading your report for an explanation of how this all happened. I believe my orders were explicit.” 

“They were,” Tuvok acknowledged, and I felt Chakotay walking up behind me, a fortress at my back in the old familiar position. “For disobeying those orders, I stand ready to accept demotion or court martial, as you deem necessary.” 

I waved his words away. “I didn’t mean to imply any punitive consequence, Tuvok. You were in command. My prior orders held no legal weight at that point.”

Chakotay asked, “Was it the crew?“ He hesitated. “The former Maquis? Did they demand you come back for us?” 

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “The crew did request the rescue attempt, and they presented me with a well-considered plan of action. But that effort was led by Ensign Kim.” He ignored the surprise on my face. “The Doctor warned me not to tax your energy with a lengthy visit at this time. I have allocated the first half of alpha shift for departmental briefings, your health permitting.” 

“We’ll be ready,” I responded, some gravel in my voice. 

“Additionally, I have taken the liberty of scheduling the change of command ceremony for noon, following the briefings.”

“Ceremony?” asked Chakotay. “Is that necessary?” 

I turned to him, reaching from habit to touch his shoulder. I thought better of it as he stiffened slightly. Feeling suddenly awkward, I looked away and blushed to see Tuvok’s implacable glance moving from my hand to our two faces in turn. 

Tuvok spoke, responding to Chakotay’s question as though he had not witnessed anything of note between us. 

“The ceremony is a recommended protocol in a situation such as this, and I believe the crew is looking forward to your formal reinstatement as the command team. I understand that the beta and gamma shift personnel are already rearranging their sleep schedules so as to observe the occasion.” 

“Will we use cargo bay one, then? It’s the only space large enough to hold the entire crew.” 

“No, Captain. The bridge is a more suitable location for the transfer of command codes and will allow the bridge crew on alpha shift to witness the ceremony at their posts. Mr. Neelix will oversee a shipwide broadcast for others.” 

I smiled. “It’s a good plan, Tuvok. Thank you for making the arrangements. I’ll need to brush up on my lines; I haven’t done a formal change of command ceremony since they gave me the  _ Concord _ .” I smiled up at Chakotay. “Commander, I don’t believe I’ve seen you in full dress uniform yet. Let’s show our crew how it’s done, shall we?” 

He gave me a grim, cryptic look and nodded without replying. 

The EMH materialized beside Tuvok. “Ah, up and about and hard at work, I see.” His tone was disapproving. Tuvok took his cue, bidding us continued recuperation and a good night. 

The Doctor passed through the force field -- a sight I always found mildly startling -- and waved a tricorder along my torso. Chakotay moved away to give him room to work, but I felt his eyes on me from across the alcove. 

“Your blood sugar is low. Did you skip lunch?” Not waiting for an answer, he turned to Chakotay. “Commander, if you would, please,” and gestured toward the sickbay’s replicator. 

Chakotay moved in that direction but stopped short. “The forcefield?” 

“Ah, yes” the EMH said. The faint blue shimmer disappeared. 

“Are we no longer quarantined?” I asked. 

The EMH smiled. “Congratulations, Captain and Commander. You are both cured of the virus and no longer pose a threat to your crew.” His self-satisfied expression was reassuring in its familiarity. 

“Thank you, Doctor -- that is truly welcome news.” I patted his arm. “Thank you for everything you did to get us here.” I began walking away. 

He cleared his throat. “Captain -- that doesn’t mean I’m discharging you just yet.” 

My gratitude level decreased markedly. I turned back to face him, mastering my instinctual glare. 

“Why not? You said we’re cured.” 

“The side effects remain an open question. Vidiian medication applied to human physiology … I’m confident I can treat any reactions that might occur, but you need to remain in sickbay where I can get to you if something happens.”

“For how long, Doctor?” Chakotay was back, carrying a tray. I couldn’t read his tone. 

“At least three more hours.” The EMH’s voice took on a cheery note. “If all is well at that point, you’ll be able to sleep in your own beds tonight.” 

The thought of our two beds in separate quarters landed in my gut like a stone. I caught Chakotay’s brief grimace before he again schooled his features. 

“Dinnertime, Captain,” he said, placing the tray on my biobed, for lack of a table. He turned away before I could reply. 

* * *

No longer confined to our alcove, I stood at a console, my food next to stacked test tubes. Kathryn held her tray on her lap. The angles of the furniture put us in each other’s line of sight, but not facing one another.

We were eating dinner alone together. Just like every meal we’d shared the last three months. But it felt completely different. The change in surroundings was the least of it. 

“Whoever said the cure is worse than the disease must have meant something like this,” Kathryn intoned. 

“This” encompassed a lot just at that moment, but after a beat I realized she must mean the Vidiian medication and its side effects. 

“Yes,” I answered. “That was pretty painful for a little while.” 

“You had the burning joints, too? You seemed fine by the time I woke up.” 

“For a little while,” I repeated, aware that I sounded uncommunicative. I wanted to ask her how she was feeling. I wanted to tell her how frightened I’d felt watching her suffer, fearing we’d be separated. I couldn’t find the words to convey these thoughts within the confines of our prior professional relationship. I felt unsettlingly mute, in limbo between two languages, one too rusty and the other now taboo. 

We ate in silence for a time -- not the comfortable silence we used to share in the shelter at night but one it seemed neither of us quite knew how to break. 

Finally she looked over at me, her jaw set. “I need to thank you, Chakotay.” 

I frowned. “For what?”

“I panicked. You helped me.” 

My fingers remembered the smooth leather of her boot, wrapped around her ankle. “I didn’t do much,” I demurred. 

“It was enough,” she said, and looked away. 

I didn’t want to lose the connection to her. I cast about for something to say. 

“Kes did quite a bit to help, though.” I pointed out. 

“Yes, I noticed that, eventually. I suppose with Tom as first officer these past months, Kes must have pulled more shifts here in sickbay.” She was dabbing her mouth with a napkin, manners precise. 

“More than that,” I said. “I had my own spell of … anxiety. The first time I woke up.”

“You did?” Kathryn asked, concerned. 

“I couldn’t move at first.” 

“Yes, the paralysis. That was disconcerting. So strange.” 

“And you were in pain.” 

She frowned. “How -- . Oh. Did I moan or something? I’m sorry, I don’t recall.” 

I shook my head. “Don’t apologize for something you had no control over.” Silence. “Anyway, Kes helped me. She placed her hands on me and … I honestly think she put me in some kind of healing trance. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it.” 

Kathryn was staring at me now. “She can do that?” 

I shrugged. “Worth investigating. When we get out of here, I guess.” 

“Yes,” she replied. “We have a lot to catch up on around here.” But after she brought her empty tray to the replicator for disposal, she lay down again on her biobed, curling on one side to face away from the sickbay. 

Away from me. She was turning her back on me, shutting me out. 

I thought I understood why. 

We were alone together, as we had been for months, and it was all wrong. 


	3. Chapter 3

I heard a brief rumble of voices in the corridor as B’Elanna slipped into sickbay. I smiled broadly, raising a finger to my lips -- Kathryn was sleeping -- then rose from my seat and enveloped her in a bear hug. 

Her grip around my chest was fierce, and when she pulled away her eyes were shining. 

I spoke first, in a hushed voice. “It is so good to see you, B’Elanna.” 

She gesticulated with both hands and then said in a tone somewhere between warm and furious. “You …  _ idiot _ .” I grinned at her. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.” Her voice actually cracked on the last word. 

“I’m sorry,” I replied gently. “The illness came on so fast.” 

“Well,” she muttered. “You’re back now.” 

“We are,” I agreed and saw her startle slightly. She stepped back and looked around, noticing Kathryn for the first time. 

“She had a rougher re-entry than I did. I don’t want to wake her,” I explained, still speaking in an undertone. 

“OK, sorry,” she whispered back. “I’m just so excited to see you. How  _ are _ you? How did you two manage down there all these months?”

I spread my hands. “You all left us well-equipped in a comfortable climate. No complaints there.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean the technology. Did you get along? Was it weird being alone together?” 

That was B’Elanna: direct and to the point. “It was an adjustment,” I acknowledged. “But we got along fine.” 

I wanted to reassure her that Kathryn had treated me well. Wanted, somehow, to tell an old and dear friend that something wonderful and heartbreaking had happened in my life. But even as the impulse flashed through me, my better judgment suppressed it ruthlessly. My first loyalty was to Kathryn’s wishes on the matter, and she feared losing the crew’s respect if they knew of our past intimacy. 

The trouble with keeping secrets from old and dear friends is that they notice when you’re hiding something. As I hesitated to say more, B’Elanna’s scrutiny of me intensified. 

“Fine, huh?” she queried, studying me like a puzzle to be solved. She glanced again in Kathryn’s direction, then returned her gaze to me. I kept my expression bland and changed the subject, moving her in the direction of the door. 

“Engineering’s okay?”

“Yeah, nothing big lately.” She seemed to interrupt herself, then added, “The Doctor said to wait for tomorrow’s briefings so you two can rest. I really just came to let you know that you and the captain have a little welcoming committee waiting outside. Word’s gone around that you’ll be discharged soon.” 

“Welcoming committee?” I asked, bemused. 

She smiled impishly at me. “You’ll see.” 

* * *

I woke to murmured voices on the other side of sickbay and rolled over in time to see Chakotay kiss B’Elanna on the cheek as she was leaving. As the doors closed behind her, he turned back, still smiling, and saw that I was awake. Our eyes met for a still, silent moment, and then his face dropped into a veiled, stoic expression. He’d often worn it as my first officer, but I had rarely seen it on New Earth. I felt a pang, some kind of regret or envy, and broke our gaze, sitting up and stretching. 

“Well, I guess I needed another nap after all,” I commented. “Did I miss anything?” 

“B’Elanna came by for a minute. Sorry if we woke you.” 

I waved away the apology. “It’s fine. I’m ready to get out of here -- any further word on that?” 

At that moment the EMH materialized beside my biobed. “Ah, you’re awake,” he observed, raising his tricorder. 

While the Doctor checked us both, Chakotay told me we could expect some of the crew to greet us outside of sickbay. I smiled, my heart warmed at the thought of seeing our friends who had done so much to retrieve us. 

The EMH looked up from his tricorder. “Very well, Captain, Commander. I’m satisfied that the treatment has worked and any further side effects you experience can be handled from your quarters. I’m discharging you from sickbay.” 

“At last,” I said, moving toward the doors. 

“However,” he continued, raising a finger, “You are not to return to duty until alpha shift tomorrow. You are both confined to quarters for your own rest and recuperation. I’m giving the crew strict orders not to bother you until the morning. You may read and engage in light activity, but be sure to sleep tonight. And if you experience any of your previous symptoms, return to sickbay immediately.” 

“Understood, Doctor. Thank you.” Excited to be moving, without thinking I grasped Chakotay by the arm on my way toward the exit. “Tuvok’s report should be done by now. Let’s go.” 

He gently disengaged himself from my grip and fell into step behind me. 

~~~

Our welcoming committee consisted of every off-duty crew member who could squeeze along the corridor, two deep on either side, between sick bay and the turbolift. We inspected the troops, nodding greetings to a blur of faces. By the time I’d offered a few words of appreciation and we’d stepped into the turbolift, I felt overwhelmed and hyper-alert. 

“Deck three,” Chakotay ordered and then looked at me solicitously. 

“It’s … strange to be around people again.” I threw him a wry glance. “No offense.” 

“None taken,” he assured me. 

Then the doors opened on another gauntlet of happy, excited crew. 

Just outside my quarters, Harry Kim stepped forward and snapped to attention. He’d been given the place of pride, the final greeter. His expression was Academy-stern, his demeanor as Starfleet spit-and-polish as they come, and he seemed to have matured several years in the past three months. Still, his eyes sparkled with the smile he was clearly suppressing. 

“At ease, Ensign, before you sprain something,” I said with mock sternness, and his smile broke through, beaming. 

Another brief speech, and then I stepped into my quarters. 

Peace. 

Quiet. 

Solitude. 

_ Chakotay. _

I realized moments too late that I’d left him standing in the corridor without saying goodbye. 

Then I huffed out a mirthless and exasperated laugh.  _ Goodbye? _ He was just meters down the hall, barely further from me than we often had been in the shelter on New Earth. He was only a comm signal away if I needed him. 

I didn’t need him. 

I read Tuvok’s report first. Even his dry and minimally descriptive language couldn’t obscure the drama that had unfolded on board in the weeks after they’d left us, nor the hair-raising risks of the mission they’d undertaken to obtain our medication. It was a testament to the skill and dedication of the entire crew that they had succeeded, escaping with relatively minor damage to the ship and no casualties. 

I wasn’t going to forget what we owed Harry and Kes for their role in persuading Tuvok to unbend and return for us. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have suspected that his decision had almost been emotional, fueled by personal regret over having to abandon me as much as by the crew’s wishes. And by all accounts, Tom had comported himself more than capably as Tuvok’s first officer. 

This entire episode had brought out unexpected strengths in many of our crew. 

_ We should build on these insights in next month’s crew assignments _ , I thought, lifting my hand halfway to my comm badge. I wanted to ask Chakotay if he’d read the report yet. 

_ No. You just want to hear his voice.  _

I lowered my hand. 

It happened again when I was unpacking and found his woodworking tools. 

And again when I was sitting in my favorite chair, legs on the footrest, smiling at nothing. 

Each time, I bit back the words “Janeway to Chakotay,” suppressing the impulse toward connection, conversation. 

_ Was he doing the same thing? _

I couldn’t stop myself from wondering, but I didn’t have to act on those thoughts. I’d told him it was over. The man deserved his rest ... and clearer signals from me than I’d managed in sickbay. The morning would be soon enough to discuss with him anything related to our return to command. Everything else was off-limits now. 

I swallowed painfully against a lump rising in my throat. 

~~~

I ran a bath with lots of bubbles and laid out my favorite fluffy towels. Then stared at it, remembering, and couldn’t bear to climb in. I drained the tub and took a quick sonic shower instead. 

Eventually, after midnight, I made myself lie down. The bed felt empty, and it smelled wrong -- flat and sterile. I had never shared this bed with anyone. I never would. 

I rolled to my side, curling my body protectively around the gaping wound that wasn’t there, and wondered if he was sleeping. 

Last night, our last night on New Earth, I’d finally slipped from the bathroom, eyes swollen from the weeping I hadn’t been able to suppress. Chakotay had been asleep, turned to the wall, knees drawn up and his left arm across his face as if shielding his head from further blows. The lines of his body had spoken of misery and exhaustion. 

_ You hurt people and use them up. You always have.  _

I’d been dead on my feet, mentally numb from the shock and turmoil of the day. I’d carefully lain down next to him, intending to grab a short nap at most, not really believing I’d fall asleep. But his calming presence, even sound asleep, even through the layers of hurt I’d put between us, had worked its magic on me, and I’d soon drifted off, waking only when his breath stirred my hair in the light of early morning. 

Memories of the lovemaking that had followed suddenly flooded my senses. Just this morning, and already lightyears and a lifetime in the past. I choked on grief, remembered sensation, and my own selfish, desperate declarations of love and was suddenly sitting up in bed, gasping for air, hunched over forearms wrapped around my ribcage. 

When I finally slept, it was on my chaise lounge, a New Earth blanket wrapped around me and his chisel cradled to my chest. 


	4. Chapter 4

Sleep didn’t come easy and didn’t stay long. I woke with the remnants of a dream floating out of my grasp -- Kathryn’s taste in my mouth, her moans in my ears -- to find cold starlight from the viewport my only bedmate. 

_ Just like old times _ , I thought bitterly, and then had to push down a surge of anguish so intense it withered my erection and left me feeling achingly empty. 

I was showered and in uniform, reading over disciplinary records, when my door chimed. My heart in my mouth, I approached to greet my visitor in the doorway. 

_ Not Kathryn _ . Then I recognized Mike and broke into a broad smile. 

“Ayala, you son of a bitch! Can’t you let a man get some rest?” 

We embraced. “Welcome home, boss,” he muttered as we stepped apart. 

“I’m glad you came by,” I assured him. “I was about to have breakfast. Have you eaten?” 

By way of answer, he held out a paper bag, faint grease spots blooming on its surface. I caught a whiff and my grin returned. 

“Aww, man, you shouldn’t have. Maria’s recipe?” 

“You always did like her  _ elotes _ .” 

“Have a few with me. Tea? Coffee?” 

He accepted a coffee with cinnamon. I took mine light and sweet, missing Kathryn’s eye-roll at what she claimed was the ruination of good black coffee. 

“So, you’ve got rations to spare, I see. What trouble did you get up to while I was away?” 

“No trouble. Maybe I’m finally getting used to Neelix’s cooking.” We laughed. 

“It’s good to be back, but I can’t say I missed any version of leola root down there.” 

“Yeah? So who did the cooking?” 

“The replicator, mostly. There was also food to forage, and we planted a garden that was just starting to produce.” 

“Seems to have agreed with you. You look good.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Tanned. Been swinging a hammer or something?” 

“Some. Lots of time outdoors, for sure. Most I’ve had since childhood. It was good. Healthy.” 

“All that fresh air. Makes for a good appetite. I remember.” He took a big bite of his wife’s sweet pastry and fell silent, but the glint in his eye told me he wasn’t just talking about food. 

My walls went up so fast I heard a red alert in my brain.  _ This is what Kathryn was afraid of. Innuendo, rumors.  _ Mike was my oldest friend on board and even he couldn’t resist the temptation to read something lurid into our time off the ship. 

I put my food down and placed my hands flat on the table between us. 

“Out with it. Ask what you came to ask.” 

“Boss,” he started mildly, looking at me with eyebrows knit together. 

I shook my head. “It’s  _ Commander _ , if you want to show respect. Chakotay when we’re off duty like this. Don’t presume on our history before  _ Voyager _ . Not about this.” 

“About what?” he deadpanned. 

“Appetites,” I parried. “You got a question for me, ask it.”

“Not my place to ask. People just naturally wonder, that’s all.” 

“Not in my hearing, they don’t. And they better not do it in yours, either. Starting now.” 

“Okay,” he replied, and took a sip of coffee, leaning back in his chair. I didn’t look away and didn’t speak. “Okay, I said.” 

I wanted to let it drop but couldn’t. “She’s the captain,” I reminded him. It rang like a false note somehow. 

“No one’s suggesting she isn’t.” 

“Then what the hell are they doing talking about -- “ 

He interrupted me. Possibly a first for Ayala, since he was never a big talker in my experience. “They wanna see you happy, is all. Both of you.” 

That struck a nerve too hard for me to conceal my reaction entirely. I looked down at the table, feeling exposed, transparent. Feeling guilty. If I’d done a better job masking my feelings before New Earth … 

I looked straight into his concerned eyes. “I’m happy. Happy to be back.” It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the truth he was asking for. That truth was nobody’s goddamn business. “And she’s the captain.” 

“Understood. Sorry. Forget I said anything.” 

“It’s forgotten. Now -- truth. How did it go for the crew, under Tuvok and Paris? Any complaints either way I should know about?” I wanted the minor stuff that wouldn’t appear in anyone’s quarterly report but which made up the fabric of daily interactions that any good XO had to know about. 

Ayala frowned, thinking, but let me change the subject and did his best to bring me up to speed on unofficial crew dynamics. 

We talked until we both had to get to the bridge for the start of alpha shift. He gave me a genuine grin as we entered the turbolift. “It’s good to have you back, Chakotay. Really good.” 

When the turbolift door opened onto the bridge, I found myself smiling despite everything. I stepped out and stood gazing at the viewscreen with a sense of deep satisfaction. Until that moment, I hadn’t let myself realize how much I’d missed the sight of stars streaking towards me at warp and the quiet sounds of the bridge crew at work. 

Harry noticed me first. “Commander! Good morning!” 

Heads turned, smiles of welcome and relief circling the bridge like the consoles that ringed its perimeter. I nodded at Lieutenant Rollins, who had been third in command while we were away and finally looked like he belonged in the captain’s chair. I made a mental note to discuss his impending demotion -- for lack of a better term -- with Tuvok and Kathryn. I gave everyone an appreciative grin and wave as I walked to the ready room. 

At my chime, both Tuvok and Kathryn called out, “Enter!” I walked through the doorway to find them regarding each other, Kathryn with laughter in her eyes. 

My joy at returning to the stars and my sense of purpose as first officer went up in the choking smoke of my loss. 

I'd been grieving her, had lied to my friends for her, and she sat here laughing with a Vulcan. 

She said, still looking at Tuvok, “Forgive me, gentlemen. My sense of ownership of this ready room is somewhat premature.” 

He cocked an eyebrow. “No apology is required, Captain Janeway. I look forward to relinquishing the room to you, along with command of  _ Voyager _ .” 

“What did I miss?” I asked, with the distinct sense that I was interrupting a tête-a-tête. I told myself it was juvenile and ridiculous to feel jealous of Kathryn’s friendship and close working relationship with her chief of security. I reminded myself what a relief it had been to reconnect with B’Elanna and Mike. 

It didn’t change the burn behind my sternum or loosen my clenched jaw. 

I was rediscovering that breaking up is hard to do. 

“Nothing important,” Kathryn was saying. “Tuvok was just walking me through the schedule of our briefings this morning. He’s assigned each division head fifteen minutes to bring us up to speed, and then we’ll spend the rest of the morning reviewing data from  _ Voyager _ ’s first trip through the next few sectors.” 

“Do we have a next stopping point in mind already?” I asked Tuvok. 

“We do. The Miranu system is ten days ahead at warp five and offers two M-class planets suitable for resupply and shore leave.” 

I settled myself on the long couch, more than arm's length from Tuvok, with Kathryn on the other side of him. With any luck I wouldn't have to look her in the eye again this morning. 

“Sounds good,” I said, feigning nonchalant good cheer. “Who’s up first?” 

The door chime sounded, Neelix was escorted in, and we were off and running with a thorough report on supplies and morale. 

~~~

The briefings were an effective way not only to bring us up to speed on the workings of the ship but also to reconnect with key staff. It was a pleasure to see Sam Wildman back running sciences after her parental leave, and while she looked tired, she beamed with pride when the captain said she’d pay a visit soon to play with the baby. 

Andrews reported on security, which he had led capably in Tuvok’s stead. His view on shipboard order in the aftermath of the spy scandal was encouraging; I had worried that our departure on top of that might have opened new rifts in the crew. 

“When you returned for us, was there any sign of the Kazon?” Kathryn asked. 

“No, Captain. And given what happened with Jonas, you can bet I was on the lookout for them.”

“And no further communication from Seska?” I inquired, leaning forward, and was startled to see Kathryn glare at me momentarily. 

“Uh, no, Commander,” Andrews replied, looking back and forth between us. 

Tuvok didn’t react visibly, but I sensed disapproval in the angle of his head. “Thank you, Lieutenant. You may go.” 

When the ready room door had slid closed behind the security officer, I looked fully at Kathryn and said, “Captain? You seemed to object to my asking about Seska.” 

Her nostrils flared and color rose in her face. She sat back suddenly and looked resolutely away. “You caught me off guard, that’s all. Let’s get on with it, Tuvok.” But then she rose and crossed to the replicator for more coffee. 

She didn’t offer me a drink. 

My chest was tight through the entire next briefing. I was grateful it was with the EMH via viewscreen, where he was unlikely to observe the now obvious tension between me and Kathryn. Even with Tuvok between us, I was attuned to her every movement. She fidgeted and interrupted the Doctor three times. I stole a glance at Tuvok’s impassive face and found his eyes on Kathryn, not the viewscreen. 

Half an hour later, the briefings were over, and Tuvok was halfway through six weeks’ worth of ship’s logs. We were seated around the desk, paging through data on PADDs. Kathryn was unusually quiet and appeared pale, but I was reluctant to ask how she was feeling. 

I asked Tuvok to clarify Tom’s reasoning behind the recent shift rotations for navigation. It was an innocuous question, just meant to help me provide continuity if warranted as Tom returned to regular helm duty, but it seemed to snap Kathryn out of her detached trance. Interrupting Tuvok mid-sentence, she said, “I need a break,” and stood up abruptly. 

She walked halfway to the ready room’s side entrance before turning around, hands on her hips. 

“There’s only a little more than an hour until the ceremony. I think we’re ready to resume command. We can finish this later, Tuvok.” 

“Captain?” I said, rising from my chair. 

“It’s enough. We need some time to change and ... prepare for the ceremony.” She sounded defensive. I was bewildered and pursed my mouth, rather obviously biting back a response. 

Tuvok merely nodded, apparently undisturbed, and began neatly stacking PADDs on one corner of the desk as Kathryn walked out into the corridor. 

I stared after her, feeling somehow criticized by her departure, though I had no idea what, if anything, I had done to provoke it. I looked across the desk at Tuvok, who remained seated. He looked back at me as if he were calculating odds, assessing a risk. Anticipating trouble. 

“Something on your mind, Tuvok?” I said, trying for a casually professional tone and sounding instead on edge. 

He regarded me a moment longer. “It occurs to me, Commander, that while we have successfully briefed you and the captain on the ship’s happenings, remarkably little has been discussed about your experiences on the planet.” 

I spread my hands. “There’s not much to say. You heard about the storm and how it ended the captain’s research project. After that, we were just … settling in for the long haul, working on our survival needs.” I knew protocol for stranded away teams, and I wasn’t misleading him as to our work on the planet. 

“I have rarely seen the captain as distracted as she was this morning in your presence.” 

I stared at him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me. 

After a moment, he went on. “One wonders how your time together on the planet may affect your command relationship.” 

“It won’t,” I snapped. “We’ve both been cleared for duty, and we’re both eager to get back to work. Captain?” I added his title with a touch of bitterness, tilting my head in a way that signaled the end to our conversation. 

He inclined his head in similar fashion, and I left through the bridge door. 


	5. Chapter 5

I was half-dressed when she commed me. 

“Janeway to Chakotay.”

I touched my badge. “Go ahead, Captain.” 

A pause. Then, sounding more constrained than the acoustics of the comm system could explain, she said, “Please stop by my quarters when you’re ready. We should go back to the bridge together.” 

“I’ll be ready in five minutes. At most.” It was only 1130 hours. 

“That’s fine. We … have a few things to discuss.” Another pause. I wasn’t sure if she expected a reply. “Janeway out.” 

I shrugged into the jacket of my dress uniform, the long tunic an unaccustomed weight on my shoulders. I shrugged again, trying to loosen the tension that had settled into my neck and back since our return to the ship. Between her carefully correct distance and unusually rigid comportment, her every conscious gesture was a reminder that my Kathryn was … what? Gone? In hiding? 

_ “I have been rescued from captivity. That is not what this is.” _

She’d been right. It wasn’t. It was a return to captivity. 

I had the computer project my image, checking for stray hairs, loose threads, smudges on my boots. I straightened up and caught sight of my holographic eyes. They looked dead.  _ Dead and buried.  _

“Computer, end projection.” 

I stopped half a meter short of the door sensor and tried to put my thoughts in order. 

She didn’t want  _ us _ . But she still needed  _ me _ . Parts of me, at least. 

I had loved her before New Earth. Long before the plasma storm and her surrender to the attraction between us. I had served her on this very ship and done it well. 

I could do it again. 

There was no alternative -- none I would ever consider -- and so I had to do it again. 

I took a deep breath, reaching back three months or more, back to a previous lifetime, when I had not known -- imagined, but not  _ known _ \-- what I was missing and had only rarely allowed myself to acknowledge what I longed for. 

I had been that man before. 

Could I become him again? 

I took a deep breath and left my quarters. 

* * *

Chakotay arrived looking hyper-formal. Locked down. He reminded me of someone. Of himself, before. Had I sensed, even then, everything he was holding inside? How could I have avoided knowing? How could I forget, now? 

I looked at him too long. Long enough to see his arms twitch, his center of gravity barely shifting towards me before pulling back, drawing in. I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from saying what I felt, and then I had to look away to say the words I’d planned. 

“Commander. I just wanted a chance to remind us both. Once we’ve resumed command, it will be … necessary … that we behave with the utmost professionalism. Especially around each other. At all times. Not only in public settings.” 

I paused. He didn’t speak. I went on. 

“This will be important for setting the appropriate tone for our renewed working relationship … and to encourage the crew’s confidence in us as their command team.” 

I looked at him. He stood at parade rest, formal, attentive, withdrawn. Eyes on the wall behind me. 

Perhaps unwisely, I felt compelled to add, “I know in the past -- before -- “ My voice cracked with emotion, and I took a deep breath, drawing on anger with myself to find it again. “In the past. My leadership style was at times somewhat relaxed. Banter on the bridge, and so forth.” 

My palm burned, recalling the times I’d placed it casually on his shoulder or chest while on duty. I wondered if he was remembering that, hearing what I wouldn’t say outright. 

My voice dropped almost to a whisper. “Obviously, the situation no longer affords me that freedom.” 

Chakotay waited the textbook five seconds to be sure I had finished speaking and then met my eyes. 

“I understand, Captain. Thank you for the reminder.” He paused and seemed to consider his next words, then said in a carefully deferential tone. “Has my recent conduct been cause for concern?” 

I reflexively raised my chin, ready to smother any presumption on his part through the sheer force of my command bearing. Something shifted in my chest, and my tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth. I looked at him. I … saw him, the way he was presenting himself, the role he was doing his best to perform. My loyal first officer, surrendering his own will, his own dreams, to follow me. 

And as I looked, I saw Chakotay -- the man, my lover and partner -- receding before my very eyes. 

I felt suddenly, irrationally bereft and turned from him, blinking away tears before they could fall past my lashes. 

My next words sounded husky to my own ears. 

“There's something you should know, before we resume command. While we can still discuss …  personal matters.”

Though already rigid, his stance somehow stiffened further. I hastened to explain myself. 

“Last night I recorded a new final message to Mark.” I saw him flinch at the name. I ignored it and kept speaking. “To be sent to him in the event of my death, assuming  _ Voyager  _ ever finds a way to transmit such messages.” 

His expression began to smolder with resentment. 

“I told Mark the date I released him from our engagement. So that if he’s already moved on, he’ll have no reason to feel guilty when he learns I didn’t die two years ago.” 

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, as if fighting for control. “Guilty? I don't --” He shook his head as if trying to clear his mind. A look of helpless confusion seized him, and he blurted out, “What date?” 

“Stardate 49761.” I walked around to face him. “The evening after the plasma storm. And I told him why, Chakotay.” 

His lip curled in a sneer, making him look suddenly cruel. “Because that’s when you realized you’d never make it back to him?” I’d never heard such bitterness in his voice. 

“No,” I said quietly. “That hit me the next day. If you’ll recall.” 

The anguished longing that then filled his features told me that he did recall: our first shared bath, our lovemaking there, the way I’d surrendered to grief and sobbed atop his body. 

He stepped back, reeling, and sounded bewildered as he asked, “Why are you telling me this?” 

I took a step toward him. “Because I want you to know. That he will know. That I loved you, and that that is why, and when, I let him go.“ 

“Kathryn,  _ please  _ \-- “

“That’s the only thing I can give you now, Chakotay. It’s all I have within my power, now that we’re -- “

Suddenly he was advancing on me. 

“It’s not. You know it’s not. It’s all you’ll permit yourself -- and I’ve already told you that I accept your decision -- but it’s  _ not _ your only choice.” 

I stared at him, speechless. 

“I appreciate that you’re trying to demonstrate to me that you took our relationship seriously. But your honesty to your fiancé is not what I care about.” 

I straightened my own spine, refusing to give ground. “ _ Former _ fiancé. And I’ve never lied to you -- “

He was inches from me now, intensity rolling off him in waves. 

“I’m not suggesting that you have. But that’s not what I care about either right now.” 

“Then what the hell do you -- “

He reached for me then, and I stopped speaking just as his hands hovered near my shoulders. 

_ If he touches me I'm lost _ , I thought, but felt rooted to the deck in ambivalent, self-loathing need for him. 

He broke our frozen silence, his voice at once hushed and piercing in its intensity. “I just want you to be honest with yourself. About us, and what we could be. Not were. Not could have been. What we still could be.  _ If you chose _ .” He lowered his hands and stood waiting. 

His accusation hit me like a physical blow. I turned my back to him and almost staggered to the closest viewport. After a long moment, I forced myself under control. 

“I'm sorry, Chakotay. This is why we have to adhere strictly to protocol now. Your conduct isn't the problem. Mine is.”

“What do you mean?” He sounded drained. 

I turned to study him. “I’ve been sending you unforgivably mixed signals ever since we came on board yesterday. This conversation itself is a good example of that. I shouldn’t have told you about my message to Mark. Personal topics are off limits now.” I rubbed my forehead. “You have every right to be angry with me.”

He heaved a sigh. “I'm not angry because you wrote to your ex, Kathryn. I’m angry because you're giving up on us.” 

“I'm doing what the situation requires,” I retorted. “And since it has to be done… a clean break will be simpler for both of us.” 

“You speak of ‘the situation’ as if it were something separate from  _ us _ .” His exasperation with me was clear. “What about what  _ we _ require? Or even what we just  _ want _ ? I don’t want ‘simple.’ I want you.” He went on at once, curtailing my protest. “You say we can’t be lovers; I accept your decision. That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. Like we were before. At least off-duty.” 

I was shaking my head before he even finished speaking. “That’s not possible now, Chakotay. Not after what we’ve shared, not with how just being around you makes me --” I threw my hands up and stalked away from him again. “That’s exactly what I mean. I have no right to say such things to you now. Once we’re back in command I can  _ not _ have these lapses.” 

“So we can’t have a meal together? Can’t … discuss what we’re reading, or socialize on the holodeck?  _ Why _ , Kathryn?” 

“Because it can only be all or nothing between us now. Can’t you see that?” 

“Then for mercy’s sake, Kathryn -- I’m begging you, let it still be  _ all _ . Let us at least try being together, here on the ship, before you decide it can’t work.” He seemed ready to fall on his knees; he was pressing me even harder than he had last night in the shelter. Fighting for our love as if his life depended on it. 

Without noticing, I had wrapped my arms around myself protectively. I turned away again, shoulders hunched, trying desperately to hold myself together, to hide myself from his view. 

Then he did touch me, grasping me by the shoulders and turning me to face him. “It kills me to see you putting this distance between us, locking yourself away from me. What have I done to lose your trust so abruptly? What can I do to earn it back?” 

I was horrified. I released my elbows and brought my hands to his wrists. I longed to stroke his face, to smooth the lines of stress and anguish away with my fingers, with my kisses. Tears filled my eyes. 

“You haven’t lost my trust, Chakotay. On the contrary.” I heard incredulity in my voice; how could he have so misunderstood me? Gently I lifted his hands from my shoulders and held them between my own, as if praying. “Please,” I asked quietly. “I need you to help me draw these boundaries between us again. If I could do it on my own I would, but I can't. I'm too weak.” 

And then he lost his temper, his self-control. He yanked his hands from my grasp, pulling back from me, and I heard the angry warrior emerge from the depths of his being.  “You're asking me to help you amputate my own legs, cut out my own heart!” 

His anger ignited my own. “It's my heart too! Do you think it's not? That I'm not hurting as much as you are? And I have to carry the guilt of hurting you as well!” I stepped toward him, all thoughts of protocol gone, hardly knowing what I was saying. “Don’t you understand? I have  _ never _ loved anyone the way I love you. I don't even know who I'll  _ be _ without loving you.” 

At that, his face lit with fierce hope, and he moved toward me again, backing me against the bulkhead. 

“Then don't stop. Don't.” He placed his hands on the wall above my shoulders, to either side of my head. “Because I won't,” he breathed, leaning almost to touch me. 

I closed my eyes, expecting his kiss, wanting it, dreading it. 

But instead he waited, holding back. 

When I finally opened my eyes and met his, their black depths held me fast for another long, heart-pounding moment. 

Then he stated clearly, as if making a vow:  “I will love you until I die, Kathryn Janeway. You can order me to my death, but you cannot make me stop loving you.” 

Silence. Charged, electric silence, as he slowly pulled away, stepping back as I teetered dangerously on the edge of surrender. 

_ He must never know how close I am to saying yes right now.  _

I had to act -- do something, say something decisive to bring us to an irreparable end. For my own sake as well as his. For the ship. 

My voice was merciless, driving wooden splinters into my own flesh along with his. “Then I pity you, Chakotay. You should save that kind of devotion for someone who doesn't have a ship to get home.” 

He closed his eyes, defeated. Stood before me, waiting for the axe to fall. 

“Dismissed, Commander. I’ll see you on the bridge at noon.” 


	6. Chapter 6

After that, it all seemed to happen on autopilot. Rituals were good for that. Like boarding a shuttle that you know will not fail to carry you from departure point to destination. 

And if it looked like I was just going through the motions … well, the ritual could explain that as well. Scripted movements and lines are so convenient when one is unmoored and empty inside. 

I don’t know exactly how long I stood unmoving after I sent him away. At some point I went into the bathroom to carefully dab cold water on my burning eyes and touch up my make-up. Smooth my hair, straighten my tent of a jacket. Check the precise placement of my pips. 

Standing again in my living area, I recited my lines. 

“In the absence of communication from Starfleet Headquarters and as the senior ranking officer, I speak for the admiralty.” 

Let us not think of the admirals, living and dead, and what they would say to me today if they knew of my lapses, of my weakness. 

“To Commander Tuvok, acting captain of the USS  _ Voyager _ since stardate 49594.”

I had been in stasis at that point. Chakotay had just been diagnosed with the virus and had transferred command to Tuvok in a state of semi-delirium. They’d had to use the Doctor’s medical override to hack into his command codes, and it had taken three attempts for him to utter the necessary words. 

I’d viewed the recording last night while going through ship’s logs. He’d been so ill, and everyone around him had seemed so worried. They must have feared a shipwide epidemic. 

“You are requested and required to relinquish command to me, Captain Kathryn Janeway.” 

I requested. I required. I was captain, admiralty, Starfleet, the entirety of the Federation here in the Delta Quadrant. Any chink in the armor of all that authority and we could end up with mutiny -- or worse, anarchy. Out here, surrounded by vacuum and far more enemies than friends, none of us would last a week. 

The ritual. Tuvok would order the command codes transferred to me. 

Finally, I would say the only line that really mattered: “I relieve you of command.” 

Tuvok would reply, “I stand relieved.” 

He wouldn’t be the only one relieved to get this done. Everything would make sense again when we were back in our proper roles and routines. Chakotay would stop looking at me with soulful wounded eyes, and I would stop turning to him like a flower to the sun’s warmth. 

Rituals were good for marking these transitions. That’s why every culture had funerals. And weddings. 

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. 

The chrono chimed and I headed for the ‘lift. 

The bridge was more crowded than usual. Every station was manned and there was a buzz of excitement. As my eyes swept the space, left to right, Harry Kim met my eyes first and crowed, “Captain on the bridge!” 

Tom Paris, Tuvok, and Chakotay stood front and center, each a commanding presence in full dress uniform. 

Tom was beaming. Chakotay had dubbed him my “reclamation project” all those months ago. It was hard to fathom now that he’d ever been anything less than a valued and trusted senior officer. 

Tuvok was a calm center of gravity, though seeing him in command red for the occasion took me aback momentarily.  _ If they hadn’t returned for us, eventually he’d have worn the red every day _ . I felt the burden for him; I knew his heart had never been in command. 

Chakotay was … there. I couldn’t quite look at him, not square in the face. He seemed pulled inward -- on autopilot, perhaps, much as I was. 

_ Don’t think don’t feel let’s get this over with _ . 

As I made my way down the steps to the main level of the bridge, Neelix suddenly stepped in front of me, holding his trusty recorder. “We’re all so excited about the ceremony, Captain Janeway! I’m broadcasting now to the whole ship, and recording it for the ship’s logs. Don’t worry, I’ll get your best angle!” 

My smile grew a little more fixed. “Thank you, Mr. Neelix. I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job.” I stepped past him as he was burbling more assurances my way. 

I finally reached the center of the bridge. As I turned to face Tuvok, whose back was to the viewscreen, I glimpsed Ayala, staffing a security console to one side. With Tuvok, Chakotay, and Ayala all in my line of sight, I was forcefully reminded of the moment two years ago when I’d beamed the three of them from the Maquis ship to this very spot. Tuvok had stepped to my side, phaser drawn on the other two. Chakotay had nearly killed Tom when he’d seen him. And that … flare of recognition, that spark of attraction between the two of us. I’d stopped him bodily, my shoulder against his chest, close enough to … 

I tore my thoughts away from the past, away from the man who even now was setting my blood aflame. Tuvok’s unflappable countenance was my refuge. The scripted lines would get me through this. And then everything would be as it should be. 

As it had to be. 

Eyes on Tuvok, I nodded. My peripheral vision caught Chakotay moving to stand a pace behind me and to my left. Tuvok turned to Tom and said, “Lieutenant.” 

“All hands, attention to orders!” 

The entire bridge fell silent, everyone present snapping to attention. The ritual had begun. 

I recited lines half-heard even as I spoke them. Headquarters. The admiralty. Commander Tuvok. 

“... acting captain of the USS  _ Voyager _ since stardate 49761 …”

Chakotay drew breath sharply behind me as Tuvok’s eyes narrowed. I stopped speaking. 

Tuvok cleared his throat and said quietly, “Stardate 49594, Captain.” 

I’d given the wrong date. The date Chakotay and I had first … 

I closed my eyes, blood draining from my skull, but somehow kept my spine straight. Gave a sharp nod. “Of course. My apologies, everyone.”

Took a deep breath and started again. 

“To Commander Tuvok, acting captain of the USS …”

My voice trailed away into silence again, replaced inside my head with an echo of Chakotay’s voice: 

_ I just want you to be honest with yourself. _

And then I thought: 

_ If you made one of those rash decisions you’re so good at... _

“Wait.” I held up a hand, palm facing Tuvok, and stepped back, turning to face Chakotay. He looked at me vacantly, and then quizzically, a tad concerned. And then, as I continued staring into his eyes, his face transformed, subtly but vividly, like a frozen holostill coming to warm pulsing life. 

_ He knows,  _ I thought with perfect clarity.  _ We both know. It’s no use pretending we don’t. _

I swallowed, then raised my chin a fraction higher in defiance, the barest half-smile curling one corner of my mouth upward. 

“Are you with me?” I murmured, so quietly that, aside from Chakotay, only Tuvok’s sharp Vulcan hearing could have caught my words fully. 

Without missing a beat or blinking an eye, Chakotay responded just as quietly. “Always.” 

Somberly, I turned from him and returned to my place before Tuvok. Chakotay moved to my side, and his hand unerringly found mine, grasping it warmly, fingers laced together. 

Someone behind us -- Ensign Wildman? -- gasped quietly. 

I spoke in a clear and confident voice. “Before we resume command, Tuvok … while you’re still the captain … ”

Chakotay’s baritone voice joined mine, and we spoke in unison. 

“Marry us.” 

In the three seconds of shocked silence that filled the bridge -- the entire ship, it seemed -- Tuvok raised an eyebrow. 

Then all hell broke loose. 

**Author's Note:**

> BlackVelvet42 was an early avid reader of this series, joining it somewhere around story #2 and never stinting on her praise and encouragement since then. Months ago, she wormed out of me the epic surprise ending that I planned for this story. Her sheer delight in it became the carrot at the end of the stick with which I sometimes had to beat myself to continue writing the series. 
> 
> Famous in Voyager fandom for her smut writing, as a beta reader BlackVelvet42 has also proven herself to be a die-hard, unabashed romantic. The heated confrontation in Chapter 5 would hardly exist without her, and that’s just one small example of how she contributed not only to this one story but to the paths I’ve taken to get here. I gratefully offer “Request and Require” to her as a gift. 
> 
> I hope she will forgive me for not letting J/C have sex even once in her gift fic. 
> 
> =====
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. I invite and appreciate feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * <3 as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta) may be a useful resource for some. 
> 
> I reply to comments. That means you can expect me to reply to your comment, eventually and barring unforeseen circumstances. (Once in a while I miss or don't receive a notification, for example.) 
> 
> If you _don’t_ want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper.” I will appreciate it but not respond.


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